


The Last Dance

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Angst, Dancing, Drama, F/M, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: After a much needed rest back on US soil, Bucky’s preparing to ship out again. Your last night together in Brooklyn is bittersweet but he always comes home to you, right?





	The Last Dance

_ 13th January, 1945  _

_ Roseland Ballroom, 51st St, Brooklyn, New York _

“I can’t believe you managed to get tickets for tonight,” you squealed excitedly, clutching Bucky’s arm tightly as you stood in line next to him. There were a few couples in front of you, the line stretching down the block - Bucky had to have pulled some strings.

“Nothin’ but the best for my gal,” he drawled, grinning down at you. “Besides, it’s my last night in town, and I wanted it to be special.”

You smiled, cheeks warm despite the cold weather. Your thick overcoat protected you from the worst of the winter, although you wouldn’t be complaining if they opened the doors a few minutes early. “It is special. The last month has been…” Pressing in close, you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Amazing.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured, kissing your forehead, dislodging your fur hat with his nose. Reaching up, he straightened it, smiling at you fondly. “Wish it didn’t have to end.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” you murmured, squeezing his arm a little. “I know Steve is your best friend. You wouldn’t be able to rest knowing he was out there without you.”

His laughter was low but you could hear the note of sadness in it. “Kid’ll get himself killed without me watchin’ his back.”

The doors to the club opened and all conversation was halted as you and Bucky walked in, showing your tickets. You’d never been to the Roseland Ballroom before and when you walked in, you couldn’t help but be taken aback by the grandeur of the place. The outside had been overwhelming, lit up like it was still Christmas, the red and white lighting reflecting off of the snow.

But the inside… the inside was more luxurious than anything you’d ever seen outside of a movie.

Red and gold carpets lined the foyer, a grand chandelier hanging over your head that you stared at in wonder, letting Bucky lead you to the cloakroom. Even the small kiosk that was housed in was spectacular to behold, trimmed in gold, the pretty hostess smiling brightly from the other side.

Bucky helped you out of your coat and took your purse, handing it to the hostess in exchange for a ticket. Your eyes scanned the rest of the foyer, watching the other guests enter, chattering excitedly.

Beyond the four sets of double doors that lined the entrance, the carpet gave way to polished wooden floors, the huge hall partitioned by thick Grecian style columns. At the centre of the furthest wall, the stage was surrounded by circular lights, large red curtains framing the orchestra as they set up for the evening.

“This is amazing,” you breathed, prompting Bucky to grin widely.

“Come on,” he murmured, taking your hand. “Let’s get a drink.”

*****

By ten-thirty, the ballroom was filled with couples and groups of friends, dancing and drinking. You’d expected Bucky to see someone he knew - it usually happened when you were out and about but tonight, it seemed he only had eyes for you.

Your feet were aching and you tugged on Bucky’s arm, pulling him away from the dancefloor. “You had enough?” he asked, breathing heavily.

“Just need a break,” you assured him, heading back to the table with him following behind. Seizing on your soda, you sipped it as Bucky watched you, slinging his arm over the back of your chair. “What?” you asked shyly, holding your drink against your chest.

“Nothin’,” he replied, smiling. “Just lookin’ at the most beautiful dame in the joint is all.”

Heat crept up your neck and you shifted, taking another small sip of your drink. The song continued to play, the band loud enough to limit conversation, but Bucky seemed content to simply watch you, his blue eyes almost black in the low light.

You didn’t want this to be the last night but you didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. Bucky had a job he needed to do - you weren’t going to be the one to stand in the way of that.

The music shifted to a slower tone and Bucky reached out, taking your hand. “One last dance?” he requested, lifting your knuckles to his lips. 

Smiling back at him, you let him tug you from your seat and back onto the dancefloor, finding a space among the couples. Bucky curled his hand around your waist, his thumb just brushing the underside of your brassiere through your dress. His other hand looped underneath your arm, fingers splayed across your lower back to pull you flush against him.

“That okay?” You almost shuddered at the low pitch of his voice, feeling it more than hearing it over the band playing slow jazz.

“Yeah,” you whispered in return, leaning your head against his shoulder, letting the music and the gently sway of his hold carry you away. Your feet were barely moving between his, your entire body tucked into the centre of his larger frame.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he admitted quietly, ducking his head - you moved your back, looking up at him, lips only millimeters apart. “Leavin’ you is the hardest part.”

Forcing a small smile onto your face, you moved your hand from his shoulder to his face, stroking your thumb over his smooth cheek. The curl in the middle of his forehead dangled down, loosened from its usual style by the exertion of dancing.

“You’ll come back,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as him. Bucky grinned, closing the distance between your mouths.

The kiss was slow, allowing for snatched breaths in between each caress and the heat in your belly that had only be quelled the night before started to burn bright again. The hand on your back slid a little lower and you giggled when his pinky dipped between your asscheeks.

“This was the last dance,” you reminded him, threading your fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck. “How about we go and spend the rest of the night somewhere a little more… private?”

His eyebrows lifted and he glanced at the clock on the wall. “You sure? It’s early.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, kissing him softly again. “I’ve danced enough for one night.”

Bucky stepped back a short distance so he could take your hand, leading you through the crowd to the cloakroom. Once you’d collected your things, you headed outside, letting him take care of hailing a cab as you pulled your coat up against the cold.

It was only a short ride back to your house, a small two-storey terrace on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Bucky didn’t let go of your hand the whole way back, sitting as close as social proprietary allowed in the cab. When you got back, he paid the driver, assisting you out of the car and onto the high curb.

The house was warm when you finally got the door open, giggling as Bucky helped you out of your coat before he shed his own, rushing you in the direction of the bedroom.

“Don’t you want coffee?” you laughed, batting away his fingers as they pulled at the fastenings on your dress. He grinned, shaking his head, pushing you against the wall by the bedroom door, hands sliding up underneath your skirt to brush over the top of your stockings.

“Just want you,” he hummed, kissing along your jaw.

Pushing his suit jacket from his shoulders, you worked on his tie, pulling it through the collar of his shirt until you could discard it across the hallway floor. Bucky’s grin turned into a salacious smirk and he grabbed your ass in both hands, picking you up to carry you the rest of the way to your bed.

Both of you hit the mattress, tearing clothing off as you went, desperate to feel each other. Your dress was relegated to the floor, along with his shirt, leaving you bare and him only in his pants, the belt undone and fly open. 

He growled, pressing you into the sheets, his hands either side of your shoulders as he braced his weight on them, leaning in to kiss you hard and deep. His hips ground into you, forcing you to spread your thighs; you broke the kiss, gasping as he moved down your front, mouthing at your breasts.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair as he kept going, settling himself with his shoulders between your knees, his hot breath coasting over your bare pussy.

With a throaty moan, Bucky covered your sex with his lips, sliding his tongue through your folds until he reached your clit, teasing it with the point. Your hips jerked and you whined, keeping hold of his hair as he started to eat you out with vigor.

It didn’t take long for you to start crying out his name like a prayer, your back arched so much your shoulders were off the bed. Clamping your thighs around his head, you fucked yourself onto his tongue, riding out your climax until every muscle went lax.

Bucky pulled away, stepping off of the bed but not taking his eyes off of you as he stripped off his pants. The bed dipped when he returned, his rough hands sliding over your bare thigh. You pushed yourself up, meeting him in a kiss, grabbing his arms to pull him further onto the bed. He rolled underneath you, not breaking the contact, even when you straddled him and your bare pussy dragged over his thick length.

“Lemme see you,” he murmured, running his hands over your sides.

Obliging him, you sat up, smiling when he instantly reached up to cup your tits. His thumbs teased your nipples and you moaned, rolling back and forth so he could feel your slit against his shaft. The sound he made was enough to make you want more - you lifted up enough for his cock to almost spring back, the flared head catching on your soaked hole.

You sank down slowly, clenching around him, your hands firm against his chest. Bucky abandoned your tits as the pleasure became overwhelming, grabbing your thighs and digging his fingers in. His arms flexed as he held you down, adjusting to the warmth surrounding him, the tightness of your body.

“Need,” you gasped, feeling him twitch inside you, “need to move.”

The pressure of his hands eased; you lifted, sinking back down over and over until you couldn’t hold the position. You leaned down, pressing your chest against his and Bucky’s arms wrapped around you.

His knees lifted, easily moving your weight and you yelped, feeling his feet dig into the bed behind you. At that angle, he could control every thrust, slamming into you so hard that the sound of your ass meeting his thighs echoed around the room.

You came with a cry that he swallowed down, his strokes becoming more erratic as he approached his peak - his hand curled in your hair, knocking it loose from the updo, bobby pins falling out when he held you close.

Panting, Bucky released you, smiling when you didn’t move very far, happy to collapse on his chest. He stroked his fingers along your back, sighing happily. “You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart.”

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, groaning as you lifted off of him, squeezing your thighs together as you ran off to the bathroom. When you returned, Bucky was cleaning himself up, pulling his white shorts back on. He grinned up at you, watching you as you located a nightie and tugged it on.

“C’mere,” he murmured, reaching out to guide you back into bed. As soon as you were within his grasp, he wrapped his arms around you, spooning you from behind. “God, I’m gonna miss your smell.”

“Don’t,” you pleaded quietly. “Can we just…” You let the question hang, unsure how you’d phrase it when you desperately wanted him to stay.

“Yeah,” Bucky hummed, his nose buried in the back of your head. “Yeah, we can.”

*****

It was starting to snow as you stepped out onto the street, clinging to Bucky’s hand, willing him not to leave. You hated this part, this repetitive heartbreak and weeks on end without knowing where he was. He couldn’t write, couldn’t call - too risky - and you felt like it was putting your entire life on hold, waiting to find out if he was alive or dead.

Steve Rogers sat across the street in the back of a black car, the shiny paintwork reflecting the thick snow coating the ground. He gave you a little wave and you managed a smile, your attention completely on Bucky as he turned to you.

“Stop worrying’, doll,” he murmured, cupping your cheeks with his warm hands, pulling you in for a deep kiss. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I hope so,” you whispered, clutching the lapels of his jacket. “Be safe.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky chuckled under his breath, giving you one last peck on the lips before he drew away.

You stood on the steps for long moments after the car had disappeared from sight, hugging your overcoat around your nightgown, feet starting to go numb with the cold. Eventually, it was the snow that forced you back inside and back to bed.

For some reason, this time, it felt like goodbye.


End file.
